Adaptation
by Obi Thrawn Kenobi
Summary: Alex knew everything about the inner workings of the world. After being thrust back into the game of spies and assassins, he is damn near the best agent in the free world. But, he's about to find out that there's a whole world that he knows nothing about, one with gods, monsters, super-soldiers, and techno-marvels. And if he's going to survive, he'll have to (re)learn how to adapt.


Prologue: The Bad Day.

It started, as it always seemed to, with a gut instinct. Alex had been living with the Pleasures in San Francisco for a month. Nothing had happened in that time. It had been paradise, with no worries, no thoughts of MI6 or assassins, no attempts at revenge by angry organizations whose plans had been foiled by a fourteen year old. It had been a month since school terms had started, and Alex was slipping back into the normal schoolboy routine. It was dull, lifeless, and perfect. After the past year, Alex could finally, finally, be normal once more.

He should have known then that something was wrong.

It was Friday, and Alex was driving home with Sabina, discussing whether or not to get started on homework straight away, or leave it until Saturday. This was futile; both knew they would leave it until Sunday night at the earliest, but the simple act of discussing schoolwork was relaxing for Alex. Sabina had noticed this soon after the move to the States, and so no matter how much trivial topics might frustrate her – after all, she did know his past – she humored him. Soon the conversation turned to weekend activities – a party Sabina had been invited to Saturday, a family hiking trip planned for Sunday. Trivial, every-day, non-lethal things. They had just pulled up to a stop sign, the second-to-last one before home, when Alex got the feeling in his stomach. The feeling that he was being watched, followed. And as they turned the corner, he noticed the unmistakable glint of a weapon on a biker that had stopped at the same sign, and was even now turning his head to watch Alex and Sabina pass by. The man seemed to make no attempt to hide himself; he smiled and raised a small device to his mouth. And Alex knew that the normal life, the one that he had just gotten used to after the move and the beginning of school, was about to end.

That was two years ago.

After what had happened, Alex was dragged back into MI6, this time permanently, but no more officially than the first time. All in all it actually wasn't as bad as before. Alex was on a payroll of sorts, and the Pleasures were kept "safe," – or at least as safe as MI6 and the CIA could keep them. At the very least, it wasn't MI6 blackmailing Alex to work for them. Offshoots of Scorpia, former members of a dissolved Snakehead, and private individuals who had a vested interest in making Alex's personal life a living hell provided Alex all the motivation he needed to once again enter the world of violence and deceit that he had only just managed to get out of. In all, Alex had completed seven more missions, but was still somewhat unknown to most of the world – for some reason, most enemies who knew about him had a habit of turning up dead.

Which only made his current situation that much more annoying.

Alex had just successfully completed a mission, and was taking the tube back to his flat in Chelsea, when it happened again. He had just gotten off, when a tallish man in a suit bumped into him. The man turned to look at Alex, seemed to recognize him, and spoke.

"Didn't your mother teach you manners?" The man said loudly with a Scottish accent and a high voice that grated on the ears. At the same time that he yelled, he started edging closer to Alex.

"Listen kid, we have to go places. Are you going to fight?" The accent had changed to American, and the high pitch was gone. Now, the voice was low and menacing. So. He knew how to keep a cover - probably professional. The threat level for Alex had just raised.

Still, Alex was hardly the lost little boy that he had been when Ian had died - or even when Jack had died, for that matter. He refused to be intimidated now. Saying nothing, he began sweeping the crowd for the man's inevitable backup. He spotted only three possible suspects.

"Who are you?"

"Kid- "

"I'm not going with you," Alex murmured.

"Suit yourself." A gun had appeared in the man's hand, but before he could raise it, Alex had knocked it away. He gave a push that sent the man tumbling to the ground and began to move away slowly. The crowd was loose enough that he could walk relatively quickly, but thick enough that, if he was lucky, the backup hadn't seen the confrontation. And Alex was always lucky. Hopefully, he would be able to slip away.

Unfortunately, the American had other plans.

"Did you see that little wanker?!" he shouted indignantly, false accent and voice in full force. "Bumps into me and pushes me on the ground!" Alex muttered a curse. Backup was alerted now, and he saw the three, plus another two he hadn't noticed, moving quickly towards him. Damn. They were good. And a six-man team for one boy? They definitely knew what they were dealing with. Time to even the odds.

Alex turned to run and began forming a plan, but he felt a sharp stinging pain in his neck. He felt dizzy for a moment, then fell to the ground, an eerie action reminiscent of his run-in with the sniper from across MI6 headquarters. When he hit the ground, he heard the disconnected voices of the crowd around him.

"My god, he's been shot!"

"No he hasn't, there's no blood."

"He's probably drunk."

"Or stoned."

"He was sure acting like it." There was the American again, playing Scot.

"What if he's poisoned? He needs a doctor!"

"Call an ambulance!"

"999! Someone dial 999!"

This continued for several minutes. The fact that the American's team had seemingly disappeared was not lost on Alex. They should have done something by now. Something was off. In the back of his mind, he wondered why he was still conscious. Obviously, he'd been hit with some kind of toxic dart, but why he was only paralyzed and not sedated or plain knocked out was a mystery. The fact that he wasn't dead meant that these people, whoever they were, wanted something from him - for now. That was good to know; Alex filed it away for later.

"There's an ambulance now!"

The ambulance pulled up next to him and two men and a woman jumped out with a stretcher. They moved Alex onto it and coincidentally gave him a good view of who was climbing unnoticed by the crowd into the passenger's seat - the American. He looked at the "paramedic's" faces and his fears beacme true: he recognized them as the man's team. And still Alex couldn't so much as cry out. He could only observe, completely at their mercy.

Once he was loaded up and they were driving away, the American came into the back with Alex and the other three.

"I bet you're wondering why you're still awake. Not alive; you already know what people are taken alive for." The man gave a nasty smile that revealed a silver tooth. Silver Tooth. That was as good a name as any, and it was obvious no real ID was coming forth soon. Silver Tooth continued.

"No, you're wondering why we used paralysis rather than knocking you out. By leaving you awake, you could conceivably figure out a way to get back to Chelsea, or at least familiar ground. It's a danger. But the truth is, we wanted you to see this. We are here, in MI6's home, taking you, their number one and most prized agent, wherever we want, whenever we want, and they're powerless to stop us." He leaned forward and lowered his voice. "Remember that later. We won't tolerate foolishness." He leaned back again "And besides, we have plenty of time to knock you out."

By now, some control had returned to Alex in his mouth. He began trying to think of ways to get them to reveal something, anything. He needed to throw them off-guard, and in the end said the first thing that came into his mind.

"You're Scottish, then?"

It worked, surprisingly. Silver Tooth blinked, then said, "No, I'm German by birth. Unfortunately, that really doesn't help you, but it tells me that you're alert enough and have enough control to be on your game, fishing for information. So we're going to put you under now. Have nice dreams." Well. Maybe it hadn't worked. These people knew what they were doing.

Silver Tooth stood up and took down a syringe. As he stabbed it into Alex's arm, another of the team spoke for the first time.

"Aw, a sharp? I was hoping to knock the boy out with my fists." It was a large brute of a man that spoke.

Another answered. "No, we need him undamaged. He cannot fulfill our purposes otherwise." Female, and slight German accent. Alex was absorbing as much information as he could now. Four men; two women. Silver Tooth, Brute, and Helga, for lack of a better German name; there was also a man with a scar on his right hand and a blonde woman, as well as the driver. They had made several turns, but if Alex was right, they were heading southwest. Or was it northwest? He was getting dizzy again, and things were getting harder to remember.

Silver Tooth nodded to Helga as the world began to spin around Alex. "Exactly. For Hydr-"

And then the world went black.


End file.
